West County Humor

Cowgirl Love

Left: Daisy, by Hannah Rose West County Humor by Ben Marshall I was out ridin' fences this month, when I got sorta conflicted. Nope, I wasn't thinkin' about single-loopin' a throw on a calf, nor was I too concerned over the high price of shoein' these days. That's another story. The problem tormentin' my mind was why we have no word in the English language to rhyme with "orange." My torment followed me into my bunk that night. I found myself tryin' to think up something, anything that could work. Boarange, falornge, catornge, nothin' came to mind. Like most cowboys, when confronted with a dilemma, I took it to the bar.

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"I could kill you with an orange," J.W. said when I brought up the subject. Of course, J.W. claims he could kill you with just about anything.

"You kill me when you iron your Wranglers," I responded under my breath. He didn't hear me, and I wasn't gonna say it again, in case there was an orange nearby he might get his hands on.

"Another whisky," I said instead to the bartender.

J.W. didn't take up the challenge like I thought he would so I settled into my thoughts. I've written a lot of cowboy poetry in my life, maybe because there's lots of time at night under the stars when your mind sorta wanders in that direction.

I wondered when you might ever even need to use the word "orange" in your poetry and found myself caught in another mind trap.

I guess you could be workin' a ranch in Temecula, and have a calf wander into an orange grove. No, not much poetry there.

Then it hit me. Sometimes the sunsets on the range are so colorful you can almost taste them from your saddle. Sometimes they're orange.

A poem about a cowgirl came to mind.

A cowgirl is more lovely than the blues and pinks of sunrise
Her heart more pure than a bullridin' prize
When she catches a cowboy's eye it becomes, for him, sunset
And he thinks more about her than rhymin' something with that dang word, "orange"